Dreamcatcher
by Nightfancy
Summary: Following the terrible events of Unwound Future, Luke has only one question: How do you forgive someone who's done something unforgivable? Spoilers for games 1 and 3. No pairings. Post Unwound Future.


**A/N:** _Game 3 (and slight Game 1) spoilers everywhere. Several possibilities occur to me as what happened...the few days following the end of Unwound/Lost Future. This is one of them and I feel my interpretation is not exactly canon—as I strongly feel Professor Layton is far more resilient than this one-shot credits him for—but I do like how it turned out anyway. I hope you can forgive my meddling, but I absolutely love the friendship Luke and the professor share. I hope you enjoy. :3_

Ever since that day, there had been silence. No puzzles. No mysteries. Only silence and the occasional drip of the leaky sink in the kitchen. Luke knew there was a larger reason for this silence, but could not break it even if he wanted to. He was sure Flora felt the same. At the moment, she had opted to visit her little town of St. Mystere, if only to spend a few days with her surrogate mother. Luke had been angry at her for abandoning the professor at first, but realized that maybe she was giving him space in a way that she knew how—to go away for a little while; to be both out of sight and out of mind. No longer a burden or someone to worry about.

Luke wondered sometimes if he should have done the same. The meager puzzles he found hidden throughout the flat just didn't seem to hold the same significance anymore. They just no longer seemed important. Not after…

He couldn't even name the memory, though he knew very well what had happened. Claire had gone back to die again. She was so hard to hear from where he had been standing that night, but he could hear the professor's voice in his mind quite clearly, him begging Claire not to leave him. _"I don't want to say goodbye again! I can't! I WON'T!"_

Three days after his self-imposed isolation (Luke hadn't dared to bother him, though he would come out a few times a day to wordlessly cook and fix tea), the professor emerged—for good it seemed; it was the first day Luke had seen him wear his hat again.

But of course, Luke didn't dare mention it. He knew the professor had been wallowing in his grief in there for those last three days. When the professor found him, Luke was sitting on the chair the professor usually favored, trying—once again—to solve a puzzle he had found that first night the professor had fallen silent. He still wasn't making any progress…

Luke looked up once he heard the footsteps approach and gave a weak smile once he spotted the hat in its rightful place.

"Luke, do you have a hankering for anything in particular this morning?" the professor asked—cheerfully. Almost like he hadn't been suffering at all. It was so strange…

"Erm—no, nothing specific," he answered like he had been waiting for the professor to ask him this, which was funny because he had already intended to say something once the professor had broken the silence. Like…maybe sorry? It would've been useless; a mere sorry couldn't bring anyone back from the dead, but—didn't the professor always say that it was the thought that counted?

"Ah, well, I suppose we'll have to make do with some chocolate chip pancakes. That's all I have left."

Luke smiled as he glanced down at his puzzle, knowing perfectly well there were far more healthy things to eat in the cupboard; probably more suitable for a gentleman anyway. "That would be fine, Professor," he tried to answer with dignity, but his little snort at the end probably ruined it.

"I'm relieved you approve," the professor said, smiling himself. "Twenty minutes longer, my boy," he said as he left the room, "Then we can eat."

"Okay," Luke answered quietly and though he still stared at the puzzle, he listened intently to the familiar movement in the kitchen. It was so…surreal. If he listened carefully, he could even imagine the professor softly humming—which he probably was; it was a habit of his—but after that silence…Luke was so sure the professor was never going to say anything ever again. It was like the last few days had been nothing more than a bad dream. Just a very _long_ bad dream.

Luke hopped down from the professor's chair intending to ask if he needed any help when a thought occurred to him. If it was just the end of a bad dream didn't…didn't the professor need someone to say that everything was going to be alright again? Luke vividly remembered the few nightmares he had had while at home—not that he could remember the nightmares anymore, but he could easily remember his mother comforting him when the dreams were especially scary. Luke didn't normally cry out at night…so if he was afraid, he had to go seek his mother out in the horrible darkness. But that was just the thing though…if the professor needed someone to tell him sorry and that everything was going to be okay (even though it wasn't—it did make everything feel a little bit better though, just to hear those words), wouldn't he have asked?

"_A true gentleman never imposes his will on others, Luke."_

Oh. Well…maybe not. But how would _anyone _ever know if the professor needed anything if he never asked?

"Professor," Luke said as he entered the kitchen, "is there something I could help you do?"

He _was_ humming. The silence of yesterday and two days prior was beginning to seem more and more distant. Luke was beginning to wonder if it had even occurred at all. Maybe _he_ was the one who had dreamed it. "Ah, yes Luke. May I compliment you on your willingness? You could set the table, my boy."

"Thanks, Professor," he returned politely, pushing a chair toward the cupboard so he could reach the shelf where the plates were kept. He gathered three out of habit, returned one and brought the remaining two over to the table before returning to fetch the utensils and the tea cups.

Luke also offered to bring the tea to the table. The professor gave his consent, but warned from his position over by the stove, "Mind the kettle, Luke. It's still very hot."

"Don't worry, Professor, I got it," Luke assured, grabbing it with two oven mitts on. He carefully brought it over to the table, satisfied when he didn't spill a drop.

The professor brought an impressive stack of pancakes in one hand, a steaming bottle of syrup in the other to the table while Luke returned the mitts. "Could you retrieve the napkins, Luke?"

"Sure thing, Professor," Luke answered, returning to the table with the item in question.

Luke almost dove in out of a random attack of acute starvation, but the professor corrected. "Ah-ah, Luke," he tutted. "I believe you may have forgotten something."

"Wha—? Oh yeah! Sorry," he apologized before taking one of the napkins he had just brought back to the table.

"No harm done, Luke," the professor assured with a smile while taking his own napkin and tucking it in. "A true gentleman minds his manners—"

"—yes, 'in _every_ setting'," Luke dutifully quoted back to him. "I suppose that would mean at home as well, huh?"

"Indeed. What if we had guests over for breakfast this morning?"

"That makes sense," Luke agreed. "Not that we've ever had any…"

"What about Flora, my boy?" the professor asked as he began to elegantly cut his pancakes with a knife. Luke almost had to restrain himself from digging in with his bare hands, he was so hungry.

He frowned at the professor's question. "Flora's hardly a _guest_, sir."

The professor chuckled at Luke's quick defense of the girl. "No, perhaps not—"

"What do you mean 'perhaps'?! She _isn't_ a guest!"

"Luke, a gentleman does not interrupt," he finally reproved gently. "If you had allowed me to finish, you would have understood that I was about to say that while Flora is not a guest, she is still a young lady and she deserves respect from the both of us…even from something as simple as table manners."

"_Oh,"_ Luke muttered, embarrassed, feeling his cheeks grow very hot.

Layton smiled before saying, "Luke, all is forgiven."

It was? Luke suddenly thought back to what had utterly consumed his thoughts earlier. All was forgiven?

"_I don't want to say goodbye again! I can't! I WON'T!"_

But how could it be?

"Professor, are you sure?" he asked, half-wondering if such an intelligent man like the professor would immediately understand what Luke was talking about. Flashes of that terrible weekend played through his mind; Clive's betrayal, the disaster, Celeste actually being Claire all along…

"Oh absolutely, my boy," he replied. "It was a small mistake, nothing more."

Were all these small mistakes too? The three days of silence seemed to suggest otherwise. A gentleman wasn't supposed to pry, but… "So…you're not upset?" _You're not going to lock yourself up in your office again?_

…Luke simply couldn't help himself. "My boy, where are you getting these ideas? I'm not upset, I—" Once the professor broke off, Luke knew the man finally understood what he had been talking about. If he had only listened hard enough, Luke was almost convinced he would've been able to hear the puzzle pieces clicking into place in the professor's mind.

"_Oh, Luke,"_ he breathed, abandoning his breakfast silverware as he pulled his hat down to conceal his face. "I'm so sorry," he continued quietly. "I hadn't thought that—"

"Professor, it's okay!" Luke quickly interrupted despite his earlier instruction, suddenly alarmed. But then he calmed down enough to reveal the true reason why he hadn't broken the silence in the first place. "If anyone's earned the right to just stop talking and never say anything…_ever again_…that would be you, sir."

The professor looked at him, slightly shocked judging by his mouth hanging open, but Luke continued (a bit more hesitantly than before due to the direct eye-contact). "Professor…I think you deserve all the happiness in the world," he said quietly, eyes closing as he admitted what he felt were very irrefutable truths. "And I'm sorry…" he finished, perhaps lamely. "I'm sorry that what happened…happened…both back then and also now. It wasn't fair at all and…"

Luke quietly inhaled and finished with, "I wish it _hadn't_ happened. I wish I could've done something. I wish—"

"My boy…"

The tone was completely different than before, and judging by it, Luke didn't think he wanted to look up ever again. But…this was the professor, the man he had idolized for the past three years. He looked up.

And it was safe—well, safe was a relative term, but the professor wasn't looking at him…not directly anyway. It looked as though he was staring at the table for reasons Luke could not possibly fathom. He somehow looked at war with himself. Was there…something wrong with the dish arrangement? Surely the professor would've mentioned it before if that was the problem…

Luke chanced another quick glance to the professor's eyes before averting his gaze, yet it was most unmistakable now; were those black dots _always_ that shiny?

Luke jumped at the unexpectedly warm touch on his hand, a move that of course, did not go unnoticed.

"I'm sorry for startling you, my boy." Layton's voice was still as calm and as smooth as ever, but with the continued use of that unfamiliar tone…Luke was quite sure that he could continue his apprenticeship and never find a need to look his mentor in the eyes ever again. "But…you have no idea what it means to hear you say that."

After a few more moments of silence that felt eternal to Luke, he finally said, "Um…I'm not sure if I'm supposed to say 'you're welcome' or 'thank you', Professor."

And with that, the professor removed his hand with a laugh. "Ha ha! It is probably best to always go with 'thank you' when uncertain, my boy, though in this case, I believe either would have been acceptable. But I've embarrassed you quite enough." And with immeasurable relief, Luke finally felt it safe to look up again, and met the professor's smile with one of his own. "We should continue with breakfast lest it grow cold."

Luke didn't need telling twice and immediately dug in. The remainder of breakfast was filled with inane chatter regarding the subjects at school Luke most liked and what he hoped to apprentice in once he finally left for America. ("Puzzles of course!" he had said, which had earned him a most indulgent smile from the archaeology professor). While they spoke, Luke couldn't help but wonder still if the professor was willing to let go of everything that had happened to him…But when the professor announced they were leaving in a half hours' time to help locate a child who had run away from home, he realized he already had the answer. The professor _was_ willing; he just needed some time. And time was something Luke was more than happy to give him.


End file.
